


What a Terrible Plan

by paranoiapersonified



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper is kinda a weeny, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Kissing, M/M, Questioning, Self-cest, and Bill is definitely a meanie, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoiapersonified/pseuds/paranoiapersonified
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dipper really just needs someone who won't judge him to talk to, and there really isn't anywhere else to turn. </p><p>Written for a tumblr prompt:<br/><i>*whispers* Dipper/Tyrone “Shh, c’mere…”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Terrible Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sir-Snellby (Tokito_sempai)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokito_sempai/gifts).



> So this was written for a tumblr prompt, even though the prompt was made like, eons ago. Then it sort of ... just kinda ran away on me. Ha. All well. At least it made it out of my own document and up online, right?

Dipper bites his lip, eyes flickering back and forth between the copy machine and the door to the storage room it was housed in. He was battling with himself over this. On one hand, he could get _caught_ , and Dipper was certain that he would immediately die on the spot from mortification if that happened. He’d have no way to explain himself. And no matter who it was that found him—Soos, Mabel, Stan, oh god, _Wendy_ —there would be no way he’d be able to live it down.

But on the other hand … Dipper … needed this. An ear to listen that wouldn’t judge him, someone who knew exactly what he was going through. A friendly face to help him with this. It was something he knows no one else would truly understand. Mabel would probably make fun of him, Soos probably wouldn’t even get what the problem was, and … Dipper would rather chew his own foot off than go to _Grunkle Stan_ with this.

He climbs onto the old copier with this thought in mind. He couldn’t go to anyone else, but he needed to go to someone. Steeling himself with clenched fists and sigh, Dipper presses the copy button. The machine coughs out smoke, before whirring terrifyingly. The light on the glass takes little time to scan him entirely. Once the whirring stops, though, Dipper can’t bring himself to climb off the machine, too frightened to move. What did he just do? What if someone heard the machine and came to investigate? How would he … What could he even say?

The copier gives another cough and a jerk as it spits out the paper, but still Dipper doesn’t move from the machine. He brings his palms to his eyes, pressing as if to ward off the headache that was forming. What had he done? He was going to get caught! Someone was going to find them, and Dipper was going to have to explain himself, and …

“Hey.”

Dipper’s eyes snap up, looking up-side-down at the clone. His hat was empty, and he just stood there, smiling somewhat awkwardly.

Oh god, this was such a terrible plan! Dipper lets out a groan of frustration, dragging his hands over his face. How could he have thought this was going to work? All so that he could, what? Talk about his feelings?? He could already hear Stan’s mockery now.

“Hey,” the clone, Tyrone, says again, more firmly, but also gently. “It’s okay. Shh, c’mere.” Tyrone pulls at Dipper’s arms, dragging his fingers away from his face, coaxing him off the machine. “It’ll be fine,” he says, finally pulling Dipper to his feet. Even when the two boys were standing facing one another, Tyrone doesn’t let go of Dipper’s hand. “I bet you’re freaking out right now, huh?”

“How are you so much calmer than me?” Dipper mumbles, equal parts curiosity at the differences between him and his own clone, and embarrassment at how badly he was freaking out if his own clone could manage not to.

“I’m a little worried,” Tyrone admits, looking away sheepishly. “But you made me for this. Someone has to stay level headed, right? Besides,” he shrugs, looking at the rucksack that Dipper had left on the ground, “you came prepared.”

Dipper relaxed a little thinking about the plan. It was a good one. He had brought a book with him, and a can of soda, so if he heard anyone approaching, he could just throw some soda on Tyrone and pretend he had been reading down here the whole time. Anyone would believe it, right? Dipper spent a lot of time reading, and it would be only natural that he would want to find a quiet place for it. Right?

“But, hey. Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s talk, right?”

“I …” Dipper tries to begin as Tyrone leads them over to the rucksack, pulling out the book and handing it to Dipper. He sits down, letting go of Dipper’s hand now and patting the carpet next to him. Dipper stands there holding the book, uncertainty still eating at him as he stares at his clone. His hat was still empty, they hadn’t bothered to write the 2 on it this time. What was he even thinking?

Tyrone smiles again, and Dipper thinks that he looks friendlier and more mature than Dipper had ever felt in his life. “It’s okay, Dipper. I already know what you need to talk about, so it’s not like this is going to be a shock to me or something?”

“I …” Dipper feels silly standing over his clone, so he hastily sits down, legs crossed and back against the wall, next to his clone, their shoulders brushing. Where to even begin?

“You think you like boys,” Tyrone finally says after several seconds of awkward silence. _“We_ like boys, I guess.”

“I …” Dipper feels mortified hearing it out loud. A well of emotion opens up in him, and he can’t distinguish what exactly he is feeling. Fear? Shame? Disgust? He looks away, and drags his fingers through his hair again. This was a terrible pl—

“Dipper, you need to relax,” Tyrone says, taking Dipper’s hand again, pulling it from his hair, and just holding it out in front of them.

“But … I-I …” Dipper stutters out, and with horror realizes that he’s going to cry. “But what if it’s true?” he whispers to his clone.

“Hey, hey, shh.” Tyrone lets go of Dipper’s hand, and for a fraction of a second Dipper feels regret at the loss of contact, before Tyrone wraps a hand over his shoulder, pulling the boy close. “It’s okay. You know that. I know you know that because _I_ know that.”

“I …” Dipper says again for what feels like the umpteenth time, and his voice cracks on the word.

“Let’s just talk through it, huh? That’s what we do best?”

“I … I think I like Bill,” Dipper finally admits, and even as he says it, the emotions he has been trying so hard to bottle back up come flooding out again. It wasn’t even that he might be gay, it was … it was _Bill_.

Bill had been visiting Dipper in his sleep. Dipper knew what the dream demon was doing, or at least thought he knew what Bill was doing. He was extremely confused about _why_ though. What was Bill gaining from … dressing up as attractive men and pushing Dipper’s comfort zone? So far Bill hadn’t even done anything … sexual. But …

Dipper can still feel Bill’s hands on his shoulders or in his hair when he thinks about it, the absent but certainly not careless touches Bill always left on Dipper. Bill was always dressed to the nines, black leather gloves and silk or satin button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and vests that were embroidered with different patterns. And his face, long and defined, with high cheekbones and a narrow, sharp nose, and a bright yellow eye, his right eye hidden by his swooping blond hair. He had his own scent in the dreams, which Dipper thought was impossible, you weren’t supposed to be able to smell in dreams! But he smelled vaguely of aftershave, or cologne, and something else that was sweet and nice and Bill always got this wide, knowing smile whenever Dipper thought that he smelled … really good. Like he could read his mind and knew exactly what he was doing. He probably did, Dipper knows. He’s doing it on purpose! But then Bill would pull away from where he had been touching him casually with a smirk, and just keep talking about whatever threat he was spouting that dream. He always had some semblance of a reason for visiting Dipper—some threat to deliver or offer for Dipper to refuse—which made Dipper question his intentions. Maybe it was just Dipper. Maybe Dipper just … happened to find Bill attractive.

“Yeah. It’s not like he hasn’t been encouraging this, though. But what else?” Tyrone prompts, rubbing at Dipper’s shoulder, and Dipper doesn’t understand how on Earth Tyrone is still so calm. They were the literally same person! This wasn’t fair, why was this so much easier for him?!

“... Then there’s the dream … The not-Bill dream.”

Last night … last night Dipper had had a dream that … Dipper is sure wasn’t influenced by Bill. It was different. Bill didn’t talk to him, and that never happened otherwise—normally he can’t get the demon to _shut up_. He had just … been … touching Dipper. Rubbing his shoulders, his neck, his chest. All with that knowing smirk, but it had been gentler. Kinder. And … Dipper had wanted to kiss it. Wanted to so badly, especially when Bill started running his hand under his shirt, feeling at his bare skin. It had felt so nice, to feel those leather gloves running up and down his ribs, over his stomach, rubbing his chest, brushing over his nipples. Dipper hadn’t said a word, either, just let him do what he liked. Just … _wanted_ him to keep going, to not stop. Until finally Bill had leaned in close, nose bumping with Dipper’s, forehead touching, and almost … almost kissed him.

Before Dipper woke up with a gasp, realizing that he hadn’t been able to smell Bill at all. It … it had just been a regular dream. And he had woken up with an erection at just the thought of … Bill touching him. Not even … overtly sexual, just …

Dipper feels tears well up in his eyes again. This was … What if it really was just Dipper? What if it really wasn’t Bill trying to make Dipper uncomfortable? Dipper had never even thought about guys like this before! He’d had the biggest crush on Wendy all summer! He … he’d even … you know … touched himself thinking about her. Like twelve year olds were supposed to do! Not … masturbating thinking about gorgeous adult men in gold vests and leather gloves and knowing smirks! Like he’d … like he’d just …

“Hey, Dipper! Dipper look at me! We’ll figure this out, just … shh. It’s okay.”

Dipper hadn’t even realized he’d started crying. His hands were covering his face, and Tyrone had started hugging him, kneeling beside him, rubbing his arm in such a reassuring way that Dipper … how was Tyrone doing this? How was he so comforting and gentle when Dipper himself just felt like a mess?

“So you had a dream about a really hot guy? That’s normal! You know it is. You know that everyone says that this is the age that kids start to, you know, experiment. It’s not like you actually like _Bill_. He’s just a flying dorito. That … that body isn’t him. You like his body. That’s it.” Tyrone hugs Dipper a little tighter before pulling back. Dipper looks up at his own face, and it looks … so much more collected than Dipper has ever felt in his life.

He laughs shakily at the thought that somehow Tyrone had gone through puberty or something in the last five minutes and was on the other side of it already. He wipes at his face again, trying to dry his tears. He is careful not to touch the clone now, for fear of getting him wet and ending the discussion early. He tries to smile at him, but it feels forced, doesn’t really reach his eyes. But still Tyrone smiles back brightly, showing off Dipper’s one and only crooked tooth.

“We don’t know if we really like guys,” Tyrone says, not letting go of Dipper, “and we probably do _not_ actually like Bill. He’s just … hot. Or that body is at least. And who knows? Maybe you wouldn’t even actually like kissing Bill. Or any guy for that matter.”

Dipper thinks about that. He hadn’t actually kissed Bill in the dream. In fact, he’d woken up _because_ he was about to kiss Bill. He’d … thought about kissing Wendy before, but he didn’t really know what it felt like to kiss anyone. Well … that … wasn’t true.

“Mermando.” Dipper says with half a groan, thinking back to the merman. But that had been… very different. He’d been … giving him mouth to mouth, not actually kissing him. He hadn’t actually enjoyed anything about it.

“Doesn’t count,” Tyrone says firmly with a faintly disgusted look on his face. “ _Definitely_ doesn’t count.”

Dipper laughs a little, but agrees with him.

“So. Options. We can either pretend like nothing is wrong and none of this ever happened,” Tyrone starts again, ticking off one finger as he talks to mark the options. “We can talk to Mabel about it eventually.” Dipper finds himself shaking his head at that option. He guesses one day, maybe, far off in the distance, he’ll tell her, but he can’t imagine doing so without figuring it out for himself first. “Yeah, me either,” Tyrone admits. “So, that leaves us with … experimenting?”

Dipper squints at Tyrone, who is deliberately looking away from Dipper, still holding up his three fingers so Dipper could see them. Dipper had honestly not had that idea himself, and wasn’t sure what his clone was thinking. “Experimenting?” he asks.

“Experimenting,” Tyrone repeats, and Dipper isn’t sure if he’s imagining the embarrassed tone in his voice, the slight blush on his cheeks. “You could, you know, try to find a boy who likes you back and see … if … maybe you enjoy kissing them this time?”

“What?!” Dipper yells, before covering his mouth. He listens carefully for the sound of any footsteps outside the door that might come to investigate his scream. Tyrone, too, looks nervously to the door, his hand creeping toward the bag to grab the can of soda. When, after about a minute of utter silence, Dipper finally breathes a sigh of relief, he turns to Tyrone and whispers again, _“What?!”_

“It’s the only way to know for sure, right?”

“Yeah, but, what am I supposed to do?! Go just tell … I dunno, _Lee?_ I want to _try_ kissing him?? Just to see if I like boys or not?!”

“It doesn’t have to be Lee. Or any of our friends, really. … And definitely not Bill, either. He’d probably say yes, but he’s been playing with our heads enough already.”

“Then what? Should I join Mabel on her quest for a summer romance? _Compete_ with her for the cutest boys?”

“I don’t see why not? I mean, you’d have to be more subtle about it–”

“Why not?! Because then I’d … I’d be just _using_ some guy, or I’d make a total fool out of myself like I did with Wendy!”

“I see your point…” Tyrone sighs, still not quite looking at Dipper. He runs his own hand through his hair, sighing, but Dipper still thinks he looks … nervous. To be honest, Dipper’s own nerves had subsided a bit, although the fear of getting caught was still stirring deep. He truly did feel better talking about this, even if nothing was getting resolved. So Dipper wondered why Tyrone suddenly looked so sheepish.

“Maybe … _we_ … should …”

Oh. _Oh…_ Dipper catches on rather quick. _Wow._ Yeah, Dipper hadn’t thought of that at all.

(Well … _maybe_ the thought had crossed his mind, once, maybe twice, as a purely hypothetical scenario, just to wonder what kissing himself was like, you know. One of those late night, just-before-bed thoughts that he, you know, never thought would be an actual possibility. He’d certainly hadn’t been thinking about it when he was pacing the room wondering if this was a terrible plan or a really, _really_ terrible plan.)

“Wow,” Dipper repeats aloud, “um.”

“Y-You know, that was a stupid, like, really stupid idea, nevermind, j-just forget about it!” Tyrone stutters, backtracking so quick Dipper almost got whiplash. His hand comes up to wave in front of him in the vague sort of way that was used to imply “just kidding, haha.”

But … Dipper can admit that it wasn’t … a _terrible_ idea. Not all that much worse than making a clone of yourself to talk to about your insecurities.

“D-Do you …” Dipper begins, watching as Tyrone’s flustered movements still in some sort of nervous apprehension, “really think it might help?”

Tyrone’s mouth drops open for half a second of pure disbelief, eyes wide, before he catches himself, stuttering out a “I-I-I guess?”

Dipper bites his lip. It couldn't hurt anything worse than it already was. He supposes, sure, he could totally hate it and regret doing it, but then at least he’d know that he probably doesn’t like kissing boys, right? And wouldn’t that be a good thing, the knowing part? “Y-Yeah … okay. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 _Someone could come in?_ his mind helpfully supplies, but Tyrone is already moving in front of him nervously. “R-Really?”

And Dipper has already agreed to it, too nervous himself to back down now, although he thinks it should be backwards. But it feels too late to go back now; it would take more courage to talk Tyrone down than to just let it happen, so he only nods. It not like anyone is looking for him anyway. He’s gotten away with it so far, he tells himself as Tyrone cautiously leans forward and he lets his eyes slip closed.

The press of lips feels … kinda nice. Reassuring in a way that almost calms his nerves, but also replaces them quickly with a new set of feelings. The fear of getting caught is outweighed suddenly by the wonder of what to do now. Dipper knows there was more to kissing than just touching lips right? There was apparently tongue involved and moving, but … this felt right. It felt right. So when Tyrone pulls back a little too quickly, Dipper just leans forward again to softly press his lips against his clone’s.

Tyrone is still nervous, Dipper can feel it in the way his mouth is still tight, his shoulders still bunched, so Dipper presses harder, tilting his own head to avoid crushing their noses together. It feels really nice actually. Small butterflies flutter in stomach when Tyrone’s mouth part a small gasp.

They break apart again after a longer kiss, not quite panting, but Dipper is breathing heavier, his face feels warm and flushed. He wants to try again, thinking about how exactly he should ask for a third kiss, when he suddenly feels Tyrone’s hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. He opens his eyes to see Tyrone’s red cheeks, highlighting the few tiny freckles Dipper had on his nose, mouth open and eyes heavily lidded _staring_ at Dipper’s mouth. “I’m kinda cute …” Dipper mumbles lowly without even thinking, as his breath is taken by the sight, before both versions of himself blush further at that embarrassing remark. But it is true, they both know, so neither of them bothers to take it back as they both let out an embarrassing chuckle.

“Big head and all?” Tyrone laughs, thumb brushing across Dipper’s cheek, just under where his eyelid crinkles when he smiles.

“Big head and all,” Dipper agrees, laughter dying out when Tyrone leans back in, noses accidentally brushing when he bends forward. They meet in the middle, awkwardness only mildly present as they let their lips linger and eyes fall closed. It was another gentle kiss, thoughts of what to do or how to deepen it so far from Dipper’s mind when his hands find Tyrone’s shoulders of their own accord. It feels easy like this, slow and somewhat tender. A proper first kiss, even if Dipper would never, _ever_ admit to it being such. It was good practice, Dipper realizes, for whatever he would actually consider to be his first real kiss. At least he wouldn’t rush in blindly, tonguing the poor person to death. They break apart only for a fraction of a moment as Tyrone slides closer, pressing Dipper back against the wall before the fourth kiss begins again, a fraction less tender and more demanding.

The fifth is almost heated, Dipper being brave enough to try actually moving his mouth, catching Tyrone’s bottom lip between his own. Dipper is surprised when Tyrone lets out a soft squeak when he does, pulling back abruptly and bringing a hand to cover his mouth, as if trying to pull the noise back and hide it it behind his fingers. A deep red flush has spread across his face, burning the tips of his ears red, and Dipper can only imagine his own mirroring blush.

“I-I guess it’s safe to say we like kissing boys, huh?” Tyrone mumbles behind his hand, and Dipper has to blink before he remembers why they were kissing in the first place.

He laughs, lifting up his hat to run a hand through his hair, “I guess so. I like kissing _me_ at least.” He blanches as he actually processes the statement he just made. “Oh god, that’s weird.”

“A little,” Tyrone admits sheepishly, eyes averted down. “But we aren’t exactly _bad_ kissers? Right?”

“R-Right,” Dipper agrees, biting his lip, and he definitely doesn’t miss the way that Tyrone’s eyes flit back down to catch the motion. “Besides, this is like … practice. To get better.”

“Right,” Tyrone agrees, murmuring behind his hand, before dropping it down to Dipper’s shoulder. “And practice makes perfect?” he asks, leaning back in slowly, eyes still on Dipper’s lips.

“Perfect,” Dipper absently agrees, closing his eyes, and leaning forward again to close the distance.

“ _Bro-bro!_ Are you in here?! I can’t find you — whoa-oh-oh!”

Both versions of Dipper let out a high-pitched squeal as the door bursts open to reveal Mabel, marching in with a giant, beaming smile that only faltered for a split second, before growing impossibly wider upon seeing her twin and his clone in such a compromising position. “Oh my _god,_ Dipper! Are you _kissing_ your _self?!_ ”

“No!” Dipper screams at the same time Tyrone yelps, “What?!”, the clone scrambling back to put as much distance between him and the real version as possible, only to trip on Dipper’s bag and go crashing backwards to the ground. “Of course not! Of _course_ not! Absolutely not, w-what kind of freak would be k-kissing themself?!”

“OH MY _GOD_ , you totally were! Were you using the the copy machine to practise kissing?!” She suddenly stops, looking upward as if struck by a great idea. “Oh my _god_ , that’s actually _sooo_ much better than using the leafblower. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Dipper groans as Mabel goes off, squealing and laughing as she jitters in place, rambling about clones and kissing and _oh my god, Dipper!_

This was a terrible plan.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I went back and fixed most of the tense errors that were floating around in there. If you spot any typos, please feel free to let me know! Thanks for reading!


End file.
